


more than just friends

by orphan_account



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Undercover as a Couple, spies in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 12:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17223968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Nakia doesn’t know how she ended up here, walking the red carpet of the Met Gala, with none other than Agent Sharon Carter linked around her arm.





	more than just friends

Nakia doesn’t know how she ended up here, walking the red carpet of the Met Gala, with none other than Agent Sharon Carter linked around her arm. When they ran into each other during a mission at an Indonesian palace a few months ago and Sharon’s cover was nearly blown, Nakia’s only instinct in the moment was to go ahead and kiss her then-rival spy in front of everyone, causing uproar in the tabloids—much to T’Challa’s distress at the time. After much persuading, T’Challa let Nakia run with it for the next few months until the case was over. Sharon had saved Nakia’s life during their first run-in in Java, and if her cover had been blown then, it would be over for her.

Now, she was known as Sarah Clarke, South African businesswoman and new partner of the Wakandan Queen to be—well, the Queen part was on pause for now while they kept up their ruse, in public, at least. Sarah Clarke also happened to be a real person, who Nakia happened to know very well and, whom Sharon shared an uncanny resemblance to, so it seemed like a valid plan at the time. No one had seemed to notice, anyway.

“If we don’t make it inside the building soon, we might lose our mark,” Sharon grits through her teeth as they pose for another set of photos up the steps, lights reflecting off the diamonds on Nakia’s dress.

They’ve gone for a collaborative forest theme tonight: Nakia blooming with red flowers while Sharon kept it simple with a deep, earthy brown dress paired with a dark green headpiece.

“You Americans need to learn the value of patience,” Nakia coos, unlinking her arm from Sharon’s to pose solo for a couple of seconds before they both move along again. 

“South African, remember? I understand patience just fine.” Sharon smiles at her from behind her headpiece, soft brown eyes peeking through the mesh of deep green. Nakia loves the way the flashing lights in the background accentuate her features. 

They make it inside just in time for the cocktail reception, a flurry of colors and dresses all around them. Nakia tells Sharon that they’re better off splitting in search for one of Klaue’s minions who had intercepted a delivery of Bucky’s arm upgrade en route to being shipped to New York. Her and Sharon had initially gotten a tip that someone might be trying to smuggle more Vibranium through the exhibits in the gala. Nakia’s plan was to handle it before T’Challa decided to send more war dogs their way, who might not be as happy that she was working with an ex-CIA agent, for starters.

“Come close,” Nakia says, pulling Sharon in towards her as they lean over a high table together. “We are outsiders, remember? We cannot appear too confident in our new surroundings.”

“I thought Princess Nakia was renowned for her boldness,” Sharon remarks, taking a sip from her martini glass. 

“Ah, yes, so bold that she would flee her throne with the great King T’Challa for a pretty woman.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Sharon laughs, but the playful edge to her voice slips.

Nakia leans in to place her hand on top of hers. Sharon’s fingers are cool to the touch and they jump slightly as Nakia holds them in place. She feels Sharon’s eyes looking into hers as she stiffens, but she doesn’t move or turn her head. 

“Do you see him?” she asks, twirling the martini glass on the table, condensed water on the outer glass dripping down her fingers.

Nakia smiles and tilts her head to lead Sharon around the table, by her side. She wraps an arm around her and leans into her shoulder, as the blonde woman stands slightly taller than her. 

She whispers in her ear, “He’s not alone. I see two men on the top deck, watching each other. They’re dressed like security but they’re not. I am afraid this will not be an early night, _agent_.”

When she pulls away, she sees Sharon’s eyes scanning the room. She hears a soft _click_ and notices that Sharon has just cocked her gun tucked away underneath her dress. It’s like her thoughts are running through the air and Nakia can feel them, hear the hum of them filling her head, too. She was focusing on the top two men, which, as Nakia would agree, would need to be taken out first.

“I think it’s time for a dress change,” Sharon finally says. “Mind coming with me into the ladies’ room?”

It turns out the ladies’ room isn’t as private as they’d hoped. With a torrent of celebrities adjusting their dresses, changing their shoes and generally just flooding in to escape the crowds, they end up squeezing into a stall to get out of their dresses.

They can’t exactly _talk_ , because revealing classified information to a group of drunk, high-profile women wouldn’t exactly serve their mission well, so there’s a lot of bumping into each other, elbows flying into faces and awkward stomping around as they banged into the stall doors.

Nakia and Sharon look at each other, helplessly, knowing that their targets are out there and they could miss them if they wait any longer. Nakia sighs, trying to shoot Sharon an apologetic look for what she’s about to say.

“Kiss me again,” Sharon says, biting her lip down. She can’t bite down her tiny smile, though.

Nakia is certain that this woman is going to be the end of her and, quite possibly, her claim to the throne. Not that that ever really mattered to her, anyway. She’d always known she was a rebel to the monarchy, but she never quite pictured it to end up this way, making out with another spy in a bathroom stall, making obscene sounds, just to clear the room.

Once the last taps of frantic footsteps fade out the door, Nakia pulls away, lips stained with Sharon’s pink lipstick, Sharon’s stained with Nakia’s deep red. They both laugh; acknowledging for a brief moment the absurdity of it all, but they knew what the job was like sometimes.

Although Nakia should say, it’s never been quite like this.

 

-

 

When they manage to drive off from the gala with all three men subdued in the back of their van, there’s a sense of relief that washes over both of them. Sure, the papers will write about how she had to bring Sarah Clarke home after an embarrassing incident involving too much wine and food poisoning over some nonexistent allergy she had, but the job was done and that was that.

All they need to do now was pick up the smuggled tech at the warehouse they’d located and hopefully, not get too banged up on the way there. Truth be told, she’s still riding the thrill of fighting side by side with Sharon. Being a War Dog was different, mostly isolating at times, which meant that she had no one to confide in. And as much as she loved T’Challa, his intellectual musings were often difficult for Nakia to listen to—she’d often already know what she would do in his position. But of course, she was no king.

She sees the same quality in Sharon: fiercely independent, often surprised to remember that being in the company of others can make them stronger.

Sharon looks over from the driver’s seat as her hands are on the wheel, several bruises on her wrists that Nakia wants to tend to, but doesn’t have it in her to touch. “You know I don’t usually get nervous during missions, but—I could’ve done that much cleaner.” 

“We can’t always be perfect, not all the time,” Nakia says, as Sharon smiles at her.

“Let’s just agree never to do high-profile jobs again.” Sharon stops at a red light, as rain starts pouring over the dashboard. “I can think of at least ten open cases that’ll need us at deserted power plants or secret basecamps.” 

“If it’s discretion you want, I know a place where we can go for next time,” Naka says, extending a hand to gently stroke over her bruises. “Come with me. I can mend your injuries.”

“I can’t keep you from your next job,” Sharon says, pausing to add, “or Wakanda.” She is wise to know how protective Wakandans are over their own, but Nakia’s never really played by their rules, either.

“I am not theirs to keep.”

As she feels Sharon’s gaze on her, the blurred lights from the dashboard turn yellow, then green, as a few cars start honking behind them and Sharon snaps back into it. They jolt forwards in the car as she accelerates, faster than caution would advise her too.

“In a rush, are we?” Nakia laughs, as she feels Sharon’s left hand clasping over hers, squeezing tight. 

“I’ve got a few things I need to pick up on the way,” Sharon cocks her head towards the back of the van, “and a few things to drop off.”

“And what will you do after?”

They smile at each other, eyes sparkling with anticipation.

 


End file.
